


Baby

by gothgirlmahi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Anxiety, Dark Steve Rogers, Depression, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced age regression, Hurt Steve Rogers, Love, Protective Steve Rogers, Riding, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Vaginal Sex, but you care about him, definitely questionable consent though, life is hard man, not exactly non con, steve wants to help but you don't really want help, your boss is a piece of shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothgirlmahi/pseuds/gothgirlmahi
Summary: You trusted Steve enough to let him in on a secret. You just never thought he’d use it against you.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	Baby

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a dark Steve series because he does a bad thing with good intentions I guess.  
> He’s dark but also like…soft. And suffering.

Steve pulled you closer by your hips, burying himself as deep as he could in you. He grunted into your neck, painting your insides with his cum. Your thighs were still quivering from your own release while you ran your hands through his hair. He looked at you with a smile, pecking your lips twice before slowly pulling out of you. His arms encased you, gently bringing your head to rest on his chest.

The night air was still and silent, still heated by the embers of your passionate moments. Your lover smoothed down your hair before gently taking you by the chin, getting you to look up at him. Before he even said it, you knew what he would ask.

“Marry me?” His eyes were hopeful, deep blue and sparkling in the moonlight.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. Before you could reply, he spoke up again.

“Please. Remember that joke you made about early retirement? Move in with me and it can be real.”

“Steve, I don’t know what to say. You keep asking and it’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just I…it’s hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry,” you murmured, pulling away from him. He shook his head, pulling you back down.

“No. Please stay. I just want you to be happy and you haven’t seemed happy recently.”

“Well, my life is going nowhere fast and not even Steve Rogers can fix it.”

“You won’t let me try. You can quit your job. Do whatever you want. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about all of this.”

“In any case I still have to worry about all of this,” you said, pointing to your head.

Your mental state was all over the place. Some days you wished you were dead and other days you woke up thinking you already were. Dead end job. Your parents stopped talking to you after you dropped out of college. Sometimes your anxiety was so bad you couldn’t leave the house. Steve was understanding but impatient with your reluctance to accept him as your savior.

Steve wanted someone he could take care of. He thought he could sweep you away and fix all of your problems. Lately, he had been one of your problems. Steve wanted to get married. You weren’t sure marriage was in the cards for you. The both of you could barely call yourselves dating let alone ready for marriage. You loved Steve, more than you ever thought you could love another person, but you weren’t in the condition to say yes to a marriage proposal.

You could hardly take care of yourself, could hardly rationalize and make the best decisions for yourself so how could you be expected to do that in a relationship? Steve said you didn’t need to worry about all of that. You could work it out later. He kept trying to push his way into every part of your life, trying to fix it. Not a week went by that he didn’t try to pay your bills or drive you to work or try to get you to move in with him. He mostly just wanted you to quit the job you hated. To become his perfect housewife? You couldn’t be sure.

“You know I love you more than anything, right?”

“Steve, I love you. I really do. I just can’t give you what you want. I don’t want you to waste your time trying to deal with me, trying to make me happier. I want you to be happy. I don’t know if I’m the person that can do that.”

No matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t break up with Steve Rogers. It was mostly selfish. Being with him made you feel almost like things would be okay. There was no one else you trusted more. And he really loved you. He showed it through all of his actions. Even though you thought he deserved better, thought you both should move on, part of you couldn’t help but drag him down with you.

“Any time with you isn’t time wasted.”

He stared at you with that earnest purely Steve Rogers expression and you knew he meant every word. Steve never thought you were a lost cause. He never gave up on you even when you gave up on yourself. That’s why you were so terribly in love with him.

Steve knew a lot of superficial things about you. He knew where you were from, your hobbies, how much you hated your job, etc. One thing he didn’t know about you was what the inside of your apartment looked like. He had never been there. You had never invited him in and to your delight he never pushed the subject. Now that he had been talking about things like marriage and long term commitments, you were starting to think you should share a bit more of your life with him. But you were scared.

Part of you was thinking it was now or never. You were afraid to lose him but also afraid to have a secret like this.

Usually, when you came to visit him, you would stay the night. But tonight you were insistent on going home. Steve obliged and walked you back, holding your hand as the two of you weaved through the dark streets. Just the thought of telling him had your stomach in knots the whole way there. After a while, Steve could easily read your anxiety and stopped walking, taking both your hands in his.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, trying to pull him along but he wouldn’t budge.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

“I’m fine. Please just walk with me.”

He let you take his arm and you held on to him firmly, both your arms wrapped around one of his as you walked.

“Stevie, I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Yes. Maybe. I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I just don’t want you to think less of me.”

“Unless you reveal yourself to be Red Skull in elaborate costume, I really don’t think I can think less of you.”

You laughed, but there were tears welling in your eyes. When you got in front of your door, you stopped and turned to Steve seriously.

“Steve, I’m going to tell you something and if you feel like I’m crazy or some kind of degenerate or—“

“You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“There’s this thing I do, like when I’m by myself or—I used to have this boyfriend that did it but it ended badly, but I trust you a lot and I—I’ll show you. Please. Come inside.”

You led him in the apartment and flicked the lights on. When you went to close the door, you leaned against it, trying to calm yourself. Steve looked at your expectantly. This wasn’t the first time you had considered telling Steve so you had a bit of a speech rehearsed.

“Steve, I’m going to say a lot and I need you to just listen. I like it when you take care of me. I like it when we’re in bed and you tell me how good I’m being for you. You make me feel really safe and secure and there are a lot of times when I really need that. I know that sometimes I might seem immature and whiny and this is probably an issue for a therapist, but it’s like I get into this headspace where I need someone to take care of me. It helps me through my anxiety.”

“What more can I do to help you?”

“You do more than enough, more than I could ever ask for. But there just another component and if you think it’s weird, we can just never mention it again. Follow me, okay?”

You led him through the apartment, making your way to your bedroom. The living room and kitchen were rather ordinary. A few pictures of your artwork hung on the walls. Steve recognized a few of the pieces you had shown him.

When you got to your bedroom door, you nearly pulled it off it’s hinges with how quickly you swung it open. In an incredible show of strength, you pulled Steve in the room with you, fully ready for him to call you names and march out of the building.

The room was…pink. There was a lot of pink. A lot of stuffed animals. Some toys were on the dresser. A half completed puzzle was on the floor in the corner. A pink easel sat off to the side. There were stickers of things like cupcakes and crowns and cute cartoons all over the wall.

It looked like a child’s room.

“Uh,” Steve stammered, “I think I understand. I read about this online.”

When he turned back to you, you were shaking with your eyes pointed at the floor. As soon as he came over to hug you, the waterworks started. You cried and apologized, saying you were sorry for not being normal and that he could walk out and you guys never had to talk about it again.

“Honey, look at me. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to support you however you need me to. And this,” he gestured around your room, “is adorable.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes.

“You don’t think I’m a weirdo?”

“Of course not. I just need you to be clear with me on what you need so I can give it to you. You know I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He carried you over to the bed and sat down with you on his lap. His hands stroked through your hair gently, calming and placating you for the time being.

“When I get like this, I need someone to take care of me. To tell me everything’s going to be alright. Someone who will help me do things and not think less of me when I ask for help.”

“And does this extend beyond the bedroom?”

“I would like it to. I kind of like it when you tell me what to do. Nothing crazy, but when you help me take care of myself so like telling me to get up and dressed or remember to do things.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Do you have things you like to wear when you do this?” he asked. You had a few drawers in your closet dedicated to outfits for times like this.

“Yes!”

This was beyond anything you could have hoped for. Steve wasn’t pulling away from you and he didn’t seem disgusted by the whole thing. That might have been because he had discovered it on his own before and had time to understand it on his own terms. But now he was here with you and things were working out!

Steve looked at your seriously, sliding his hand down the curve of your hip.

“Go put on something pretty for me, baby girl.”

You nearly leaped out of his lap and into your walk in. Steve chuckled at your enthusiasm. There was a dress you had been saving for just a moment like this. It was short and pink, coming to just above your mid thigh with plenty of bows and ruffles. You hoped you wouldn’t need your bra or your panties so you left them in the closet. Before you left, you put on a pair of matching stockings.

When Steve saw you, his heart soared. You were always cute but this was something else. Just seeing you happy thrilled him and he beckoned you over to sit on his lap again. You straddled him with a big smile.

“Do you have a safe word?” Steve asked. So far everything the two of you had done was extraordinarily vanilla. Not that it was bad, because it definitely wasn’t, but this was new and exhilarating.

“Uh. Let’s go with Canada,” you decided.

Steve laid you on your back, placing himself between your thighs. He placed kisses all over your face and you giggled. One of his fingers pressed at your entrance.

“You’re so wet. Is that all for me?”

He pushed two fingers into you suddenly and you couldn’t reply. You clenched around him and he smiled, working up a steady pace inside you. Small gasps left your mouth as he fucked you with his fingers.

“Yeah, honey. Just like that. You’re so perfect.”

“P-please can you—aah!” He flicked his hand just right to get you moaning. You tried to grind your hips down to get him to go harder but it didn’t work. He was taking his time pulling you apart.

“Please what, baby? Use your words.”

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves. Another finger joined the ones inside you.

“I want you inside me.”

“I am inside you, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna come on my fingers?”

“I wanna come on your cock. Daddy, please let me come on your cock!”

“Anything you want, baby.”

Steve took his shirt off and hung it over your chair. He got up to step out his pants and pull his boxers down. He sat on the bed and maneuvered you on top of him.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You nodded excitedly and put your hands on his shoulders. Steve held you by your waist and lined himself up with your entrance.

You gasped as you slid down on him. This position let him go as deep as possible so it was a lot to handle. Steve was gentle, letting you down slowly until your hips met. His hand rubbed your back and he hushed the whines you made, pressing kisses into your hair. When you were calm, he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you nearly off of his cock before slamming you back down.

Your eyes rolled back.

You were already close before he started fucking you, but this angle was making you crazy for him. He brought you back down again and you cried out, hugging yourself against him tighter. Steve got a steady rhythm going, picking you up and pulling you harshly down on his cock.

“Such a good girl taking my dick like this. This is what you wanted right? You wanted daddy’s cock?”

All you could do was nod as he rammed into you from below. The noises coming from where you were connected were obscene. Wet smacking echoing through the room. The slapping of skin on skin. Moans escaping your mouth in short breaths. The low rumble of Steve’s grunts of pleasure in your ear.

“Daddy, can I come?” Your voice was a hushed whisper in his ear. He looked at you, eyes fully dilated and consumed with lust.

“Yeah, baby. Be a good girl and come on daddy’s cock.”

He thrust into you one more time and you were lost, mindless as you came. Your orgasm came out in a little gush around his cock while you spasmed on top of him, legs shaking and hiding your face in his neck. The pleasure wasn’t stopping as he continued to impale you on his cock. You could feel your wetness covering his and your thighs.

“I’m close, sweetheart. I’m so close. You’re so beautiful.”

You clenched around him tightly, holding onto his biceps.

“Please, daddy, I want your cum. Please cum inside me.”

Steve pulled you down on him, holding you there and coming deep inside you. There was so much that it spilled from where you were joined and he was still coming. It sent you into aftershocks of your orgasm, panting while he filled you beyond capacity.

When the two of you were done shaking and holding onto each other, Steve threw his head back in laughter, his chest still heaving from exertion.

“I never came that hard in my life. I didn’t know someone could even get this wet. You’re magical.”

You hugged him, breathing in the scent of his skin. His arms wrapped around you, giving you a tight embrace, just how you liked. He held you until you heart rate steadied and pulled out, laying you on your back. Before you could protest, he hushed you.

“I just need to clean you up, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

You pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and he went, coming back with a wet towel to clean you up. Your mind was sleepy and dazed from how hard he fucked you. Completely worn out as your eyes drooped. Steve cleaned you carefully, being cautious of how sensitive you were. He cleaned himself before throwing the towel in the hamper.

Steve settled in behind you, pulling you closer so your back was against his warm chest. He laid kisses on your shoulder and near the back of your neck. You took his hand and laced your fingers through.

“This is good for us,” Steve murmured, into your skin, “now I can spoil you all I want.”

You smiled, holding his hand tighter.

“I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> no darkness YET but this is a story about forced age regression, anxiety/depression, smut, ddlg


End file.
